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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200256">Reflections</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC'>0KKULTiC</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ATEEZ Storyline Event, Angst, Bad end, Blood, Blood and Injury, Clones, Gen, Jung Wooyoung-centric, Oneshot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:40:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25200256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/0KKULTiC/pseuds/0KKULTiC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wooyoung had become obsessed with perfection. All he could think of was getting it right. He had to, for their dream.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Reflections</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>// yo yo yooo~ this is my story for the ateez storyline event ^_^ i based it off of Wooyoung's story! you can peep it on the boards here (http://ateez.kqent.com/bbs/board.php?bo_table=gevent&amp;wr_id=2530) until the 14 of July.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>I gave up on the easy way out to be with my friends.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But we’re wrong.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m only going to think about one thing now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung stared at his panting reflection in the cloudy mirror. He watched the bead of sweat roll down his forehead before dropping from his jaw. Heat surrounded him like a thick veil, wrapping around him so tightly it nearly suffocated him. He could see it in his eyes - the murky, obscure light telling just how much he had exhausted himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>But he couldn’t stop.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not with weeks packed full of schedules and stages, not with adoring fans waiting with bated breath. He had to go on. He had to practice. He had to dance. He had to tear his gaze away from the man in the mirror to get back to his starting position. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So he did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The dancer trotted over to the computer station to queue up the music. It was always easier to practice with his friends, the groupmates he’d come to know as brothers; but the hours had run long. While the others dispersed to go about their own devices - produce music, rest, make video content, eat dinner - Wooyoung could not. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No, there were no stern trainers or strict guidelines necessitating his presence in the wee hours of the morning. The person keeping him there was the very man he saw dancing in the mirror, his solitary partner - himself. He refused to deliver anything short of perfection for their performances, and, unfortunately, he had yet to reach such proficiency in their dance numbers. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His friends all insisted he needed rest. They said he could be having a bad day. Some offered to help him with it the next morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’ll just get more sloppy the more tired you get,” One of them told him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head and insisted.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t their job to correct his mistakes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, he had been horribly </span>
  <em>
    <span>off </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the latter half of the day. He moved his body in accordance with the steps and the time, but, in spite of what he thought was right, he couldn’t quite get it right. It was as if his own body intended to sabotage him. He moved the right way, but it came out wrong. Most of the time, only he could see it. Though he asked to run over parts again, his teammates insisted, “It was fine.” “What was wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It earned him a few begrudging looks, but they obligingly ran through the choreo regardless.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No amount of correction could right his wrongs. No matter what he did - or what he thought he did - his reflection revealed the truth. He was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The music he had queued started up, and he took the starting position. He felt confident about the beginning of it; he even felt tempted to try the early parts with his eyes closed, just because he could. However, a voice in his head told him to remain vigilant. He was hardly in any place to be so confident when things that everyone else was capable of eluded him. The nasty voice in his head even taunted him: “If you close your eyes, you cannot see that you are wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shook the thoughts out of his head and continued. The dancer found himself particularly confounded by the pre-chorus. The music played and he concentrated on doing the steps properly. He tried his best to remember the steps he was doing, but suddenly his body betrayed him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Though he felt the physical sensation of dancing, his reflection remained still. Wooyoung’s eyes widened with shock. It shattered his heart knowing that he messed up again. But more than that, the difference between mind and body jarred him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t help himself when he grunted, “What the fu-” Not paying attention, his feet twisted awkwardly, and he ended up falling onto the ground. “Oof,” He groaned as pain echoed across his limbs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How…?” He wondered aloud. For a second, he contemplated calling it a night. His hyungs were right: the more tired he got, the sloppier his dancing would be. He would reach a point of diminishing returns when it came to practice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But it has to be perfect, this is your dream,” He said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a second, he sat still, utterly surprised at the words that had dropped from his mouth. Sure, he would babble to himself here and there, but to hear his own voice speaking so seriously… It felt strange and alarming.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He (himself) had a point, though.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had a dream. They all had a dream. They wanted to captivate, to inspire awe, to perform on massive stages and reach into the hearts of people. So, they embarked together. Some of them knew each other when they joined the company. Yunho had Mingi. Wooyoung followed Yeosang after he switched companies. He never regretted it, not one bit. As the others trickled in, mere strangers upon meeting, they soon grew to know one another as brothers, a second family.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Being together as eight made their dreams even more real, even more crucial.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It put more pressure on Wooyoung to do his best. He needed to perform - not just for himself, but for the others.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had to be perfect.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was utterly sick of looking in the mirror and disliking what he saw. He had to improve, to be worthy of fan accolades and be worthy of his brothers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And, for god’s sake, he had to nail this dance.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, from the top,” Wooyoung sighed. Dull pain throbbed in his head, probably his body telling him he ought to rest. He didn’t listen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked his reflection in the eye and told himself: “Let’s get it right this time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He trotted over to the computer to queue the song from the beginning and took his position. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, Wooyoung let muscle memory take over as he started the dance again. Sweat dripped down his brow while he went through the steps. He couldn’t wait to go home to a cold protein shake and a warm shower. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No, he told himself. Don’t think about those things.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>You need to concentrate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung watched carefully, retracing the steps of the prechorus in his head. His brain entered an alternate space - as it always did when he focused hardcore on performing. Everything disappeared except for the music and himself, his reflection dancing in perfect time with the beat. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His vision honed in on his feet during the difficult prechorus part, so much so that he didn’t even notice anything else.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ecstatic thrill surged through his veins as he transitioned flawlessly into the chorus. Finally. Finally, He got it right. When his eyes shifted up to take in his whole reflection, he froze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Standing behind him, a figure clad head to toe in black stared him straight in the eye. For a second, his blood froze.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the-!?” He squeaked, jumping up. He completely dropped the choreo, turning on his heel to chide the prankster who thought it’d be funny to scare him during practice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was nobody there.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the…?” Wooyoung ran a hand through his sweaty hair. His excitement quickly got replaced with irritation. Obviously, he was busy. Promotions were just around the corner. He didn’t have time for people to play with him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The dancer stepped over to the door and scanned the hallway. He expected to find a manager or groupmate standing in the hall, giggling to themselves. But there was nothing. Nothing and nobody.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was just an illusion,” He muttered to himself. He probably saw something on the wall - a coat, a bag, a hung-up poster - and thought it was a person. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Annoyed, Wooyoung stepped back inside the studio, shutting the door behind him. His head was throbbing, but he felt so, so close to a breakthrough.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Just one more time,” He told himself. “Full song. No stopping, even if I mess up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He restarts the song again, determined to do it right, just once, before heading to bed. He stubbornly pushes past his exhaustion and headache, repeating the mantra to himself:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>One time. Do it right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Do it perfectly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Be perfect.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He starts from the top again. Though he’d just finished telling himself to do it right, he can feel his body bogged down by fatigue. He’s slower than he was before. While he’d been able to focus so much just minutes prior, it had become much more laborious. Even so, he kept going. He chided himself for daring to slow down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re really persistent, aren’t you?” He said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wait.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Who said that?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung halts completely. The music keeps playing, but for some reason, the sound distorts as if there was some speaker malfunction. The track slows down, twisting into something low-pitched and ominous.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you need to lay down,” He said again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t say it at all. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The edges of Wooyoung’s vision blurred, and tightness began closing around his lungs. He collapsed, knees hitting the ground with a loud thud. Suddenly, he felt tired. Very, very tired. The oppressive drowsiness seeped into his skin, dragging him further and further down like lead weights. He had been light on his feet just moments before, but now even staying upright is a feat. When his hands hit the wooden floor, the heat coming off of them makes condensation bead up around. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Breathing started to get more and more difficult. He could not tell if the cause of the complications was exhaustion or anxiety. He figured a little bit of both. The dancer’s chest heaved as he fought the darkness tinting the edge of his vision. He glanced across the room, by the computer setup. That’s where he’d put his phone down. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung made a motion to move in that direction, but his body rebelled. It stubbornly refused to go in the direction he’d told it to. Instead, it stayed put, almost like he’d sunk into cement on the floor. Dread trickled into his veins, dragging his mental state further and further down toward the trenches.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t know what time it was - only that it was late. Maybe close to midnight. Due to his habit of late nights, his friends wouldn’t question his absence. At least, not any time soon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What would become of him?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His last resort was to call for help. He felt woefully pathetic, but pride had to take a backseat to self-preservation at this point.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Help!” Wooyoung shouted at the top of his lungs. His voice echoed loudly across the room, bouncing from wall to wall. Soft echoes murmured throughout the room in the wake of his exclamation:</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Wait… Wait… Wait… Wait…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They taunted him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe this is a panic attack, he thought. Maybe I can sleep this off, another thought. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Though he tried to put a band-aid over his panic, it did little to mend the reality. He was stuck, completely alone in the studio with nobody nearby, with no access to his phone and with a body insistent on not cooperating. He adamantly blinked tears out of his eyes. He would not cry today. No. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt certain that he would look back on this and laugh at it. Maybe it would turn into a cautionary tale about overworking oneself. But…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He needs to get out, first.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His peripheral vision continues to swim and swirl, darkening, further diminishing his sight. The room felt… Darker. He knew it had to be a trick of his eyes, the panic that had set in, because he could not move. How could he possibly lower the lights?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For a few minutes, the room is filled with nothing but Wooyoung’s struggled breaths. Occasionally he lets out a grunt of exertion in an attempt to move, but his muscles fail him. They wobble and shake while the room spins around him, forcing him back onto the ground.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Crawl…” He thought out loud to himself. “I think I’ll crawl.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That sounded manageable, at least. Wooyoung brought his chest to the ground and began dragging his body forward as a soldier would. His body felt like dead weight, and his legs were numb and tingly. He grimaced as he dug his elbows into the wooden floor, hoisting his body forward.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The distance to the computer station seemed almost insurmountable, but he managed to reach it with great effort. Huffing and puffing, he reached up to grab the bag he’d placed on the table. His fingers just barely graze the strap. He struggles just to get a grip on the backpack. When he finally manages to drag it down, he has to lay his head down for a second to come down from his vertigo.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Reading the phone screen took more effort than it should have. Wooyoung had to squint as he strained to keep the lettering in focus. Even his fingers had lost dexterity, evidenced by the clumsiness with which he handled the device. He pawed awkwardly at the screen for far too long, accidentally opening apps and closing other ones. It’s like his own body was trying to sabotage him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was working.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> He finally managed to dial someone, landing on Yeosang of all people. He didn’t remember calling the other recently but hardly cared enough to give it much thought. The phone line buzzed for a few moments and Wooyoung prayed the other wasn’t playing a game or sleeping.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, he picked up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello?” The sound of Yeosang’s voice filled Wooyoung with so much relief, he could cry. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeosang, I- I need some help,” Wooyoung replied, voice winded like he’d just run up a flight of stairs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...Hello?” Yeosang said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeosang I-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wooyoung, are you there?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m- ‘m here!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you butt dial me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeosang- Wait-!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm? Wooyoung?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeosang, help! I need help-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wooyoung…? Hm-?” Yeosang’s voice got distant for a second, “-it’s Wooyoung… I don’t know… I think he…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeosang?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wooyoun- you’re- …”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeosang just ask one of the managers to come-!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-an’t hear… -ou-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The line went dead with a soft click.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s heart sunk. He sighed, laying his head down on the plank floor beneath him. He only intended to rest his head for a minute, but his body remained still for quite a few. He felt drained and hopeless. He didn’t even want to bother trying to call someone again. Why bother with the frustration?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I need to…” Wooyoung wasn’t sure why he was talking to himself. He could hardly breathe. Speaking strained his dwindling energy even more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he raised his head, the room appeared darker. It was as if someone had cast a veil over the lights. He knew it had to be in his head. Maybe this was all in his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That’s probably what it was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was all just in his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung reached for his phone, but his clumsy hands fumbled, sending the thing sliding across the floor instead. The dancer groaned. He propped himself up on his forearms with the intent of standing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A faint hum started buzzing in his ears. The more energy he spent trying to get up, the louder it got. By the time he managed to get onto his knees, the sound was deafening, and he felt like his ears were about to explode. The straining pain pulsed in his temples. It filled his mouth with a strange taste.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The room resumed its spinning motion, too. Wooyoung, stubborn and hardy and prideful, labored to ignore it as he crawled on all fours back toward his phone. He fantasized about laying in bed with a cold cup of water and dreaded explaining to his hyungs just what had gotten him in such trouble. He cursed internally as he started the slow crawl across the hazy room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung moved the minimum distance before vertigo-fueled gravity sucked him down to the floor again. He managed to just barely be within reach of his phone, and he stretched his arm out desperately toward the device. Had he not been so concentrated on the glassy black screen of his phone, perhaps he would not have noticed a shadow shifting in the edge of his vision.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something moved in the dark reflection cast onto the phone screen, and it made Wooyoung pause. His heart leaped into his throat, and he followed the strange shadows with his eyes. His gaze moved off of the screen and swept across the floor until landing on the mirror. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>On his very own reflection.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man in the mirror looked pathetic, prone on the floor, gasping for breath and cloying for a phone as if it were some grand, life-changing Treasure. However, that wasn’t what alarmed Wooyoung the most. No, it was not the him, pitifully squirming on the floor that had upset him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The other him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Sharp and pronounced against a bleary backdrop, he stood over the struggling dancer clad head to toe in black. A mask covered his face and a wide-brimmed hat obscured the rest of his head. Rings of smoke covered his eyes, making the whites of them stand out unsettlingly. In spite of the ample coverings, Wooyoung knew it was him. Somehow, he knew it was him in some capacity.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He knew that he was looking at the man in the mirror, the reflection that had snubbed him time and time again, the one who had convinced him his timings, his appearance, his steps were all wrong. He knew that man because it was the very man he’d been looking at for a long, long time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, for the first time, that man really, truly looked back, and Wooyoung wished he hadn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Desperate, the dancer reached for the phone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah-!” Wooyoung yelped when the thick sole of a black boot flattened his hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man in black pressed down, exerting a steadily increasing pressure. Tears welled up in Wooyoung’s eyes as the man pressed harder and harder, crushing his hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Almost,” The man in black said. Wooyoung got chills down his spine from hearing his own voice. It felt profoundly wrong.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is a dream,” Wooyoung told himself. “This is just a dream.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right,” The man in black said, tone lilting and airy. Almost giddy - in a sort of hollow way. “This is just a dream, Wooyoung. I think you should open your eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung turned to look at the strange nightmare of a man, “What does that-” He was met with the sole of a boot pressing right on the middle of his back. The other pressed right on his lungs, making Wooyoung hack and cough uncontrollably. The already swimming world around him began to fade away, black slowly creeping in from the corners of his vision. He wheezed, desperate for air. But no respite came.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He registered pain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then everything faded to black.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...young…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wooyoung…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...ooyoung…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wooyoung!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Yeosang’s muffled voice penetrated the thick, gauzy fog that surrounded the dancer’s mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung woke up with a start. His lungs heaved, and much to his relief, he was able to take a good, deep breath. He had to blink a few times to adjust to the bright light of the dance studio. Just moments before, everything was dim and dark, now the place was once again filled with light. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The dancer clamored to the mirror, checking his eyes, his nose and his features, making sure that the reflection matched his movements.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, hello?” Yeosang coughed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh- Sorry,” Wooyoung chuckled, cheeks flushing with sheepishness. He turned to regard the other over his shoulder, “I just had a-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He choked on the half-finished sentence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s face fell, and devastation raked its nasty claws across down his throat, scoring his heart.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“-nasty episode of vertigo or something,” Wooyoung’s voice finished answering Yeosang.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The dancer’s lip twitched and his eyes welled up with tears as he turned to look through the mirror.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Yeosang took to Wooyoung’s side, crouching down by him. He looked so worried.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I don’t know,” The other responded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Wooyoung watched it all play out through the mirror like a television show. Though he kept searching the studio behind him, it was completely empty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yeosang sighed - he sounded muffled through the glass, “Did you pass out?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Just fell. My muscles sorta quit on me for a minute,” The other replied.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung rushed toward the glass and began banging on it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” He called out. “Hey! Yeosang! Hello!” He prayed this was another dream.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell? How long have you been practicing? Did you eat enough today?” Yeosang scolded the Wooyoung in the mirror, either ignoring or unknowing of the person on the other side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-” The Wooyoung in the mirror laughed sheepishly. “Maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay here, I’m gonna get you a juice or something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeosang! Yeosang!” Wooyoung tried again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Wooyoung in the mirror insisted, “No, I can-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up. Stay put. I’ll be right back. Manager’s down the hall…” Yeosang sprung onto his feet before padding away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you! Love you!” The other singsonged, waving giddily to their savior.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! Hey, wait! Wait!” Wooyoung banged on the glass, and when that didn’t work, he threw his body against it. He didn’t even care about the pain resonating from his shoulder. “Hey- Yeosang! Yeosang!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The other left the studio, leaving Wooyoung alone once again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The man in the mirror waited for Yeosang to be gone before turning back to the glass. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-You can’t do this!” Wooyoung snarled. “I- I don’t know what you did, but you can’t do this!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“This is just a dream, remember?” The Wooyoung in the mirror said. He sounded so smug. So damn satisfied with himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“L-Let me go!” Wooyoung demanded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you should open your eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said let me go! When I find my way out of here, I swear, I’ll-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I said: open. Your. Eyes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Wooyoung’s last nerve snapped. He threw his body against the mirror over and over again. Adrenaline pumping, he didn’t even mind the bruises, welts, cuts and scrapes he was inflicting on himself. Sometimes, he swore he could hear the glass splinter or crack. Yet it never seemed to be enough. Even the mirror taunted him, teasing him with glimmers of hope only to seamlessly repair itself yet again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>That didn’t stop him though. In a blind rage, he demanded again and again:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Let me out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Let me out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Let me out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The other simply watched on with a smile. That smug grin was the last thing Wooyoung saw before the blood oozing down from his forehead flooded his vision with red.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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